“Trystan?” Otvla’s voice was shocked and unsure.
“She... she doesn’t know what she’s saying!” he baldly lied. “There’s something wrong with her.”
“Hah! You lie to my face, calling me deceitful?!”
“Rape!” Mamma’s scandalized voice echoed throughout the open field.
“I didn’t... I wouldn’t... It wasn’t like that!” he cried desperately.
“It was exactly like that!”
Face mottling red, the man I’d once thought I’d loved, sold his soul. “You have no proof. You wanted it as much as I did!”
“Trystan!” There was a shocked gasp followed by a sudden thump, Mamma’s frantic cry ringing clear across the clearing. Not entirely sure of it, I was pretty positive sister dearest had fainted dead away.
“I despise you. You’re the last man I would have ever deigned to touch, given the choice. I’d... I’d... I’d rather tie myself to the troll!” Technically, I already had, but it was true.
Trystan’s hands loosened enough for me to free my left hand and I thrust my arm at everyone gathered a small distance behind us.
“I wanted it? Really? Is this not proof enough of how much I wanted it, as badly as you say?”
Papa’s face paled noticeably, his hand reaching up to his face as the other held his stomach.
“No. No. He didn’t... You wouldn’t. You’re...” The words died in Trystan’s throat.
“I’m what? Yours?” a bitter laugh escaped me. “No. Think again.” Growling in the back of my throat, I shook my head. “Don’t be so stupid, Trystan. Why else would he mark me?” Saying what I did, I didn’t even know for certain myself why Troll had chosen to bond with me, I just wanted to see his pain. Craved it.
Again, that insidious sixth sense beckoned. He hurt you. Hurt him.
“No...” Pulling back, Trystan’s face paled and he wove drunkenly atop me. “No. That’s not what- No. And us... You love me. You didn’t... You’re making it all... I wouldn’t do that!!”
“But you did.”
Releasing me, he shook his head frantically, crawling backwards once he’d rolled off of me, stumbling back until he could stand up.
“You’re not my Daphie-girl,” he managed to choke out, “this isn’t you.”
“Trystan,” Papa snapped, eyeing us both uncertainly.
“That priest must’ve been right,” Trystan spluttered. “The devil is in her. She’s a witch or something... Demon possessed. There’s no other explanation.”
That, or you’ve just been called out, tried to fumble your way out of it, no one is buying it, ran out of options, so now you’re placing it all squarely on my shoulders, namely my sanity and a possession by Satan himself.
How dare him!
Make him pay, my senses commanded.
I wasn’t in a position to deny.
“You’ll rue the day you took what wasn’t yours! You’ll pay, I say! You’ll pay!” The tingling in my fingers ramped up as I gained my footing, standing up to face him head on, unhampered magic flowing along my wrists, licking along my skin in a wave warm with friendly greetings. Strange, foreign words tumbling from my lips, I let them fly, sending it straight into Trystan’s chest as he flew back, sailing through the air to land at Papa’s shocked feet. “You’re rotten and blinded! You’re selfish and uncaring, wishing for that which you can’t have! A witch? Possessed? The devil is with you! You take what was never freely given! I curse you for it!” I roared.
“Daphie...” Papa whispered, hands trembling as he stuttered, ducking down when a clump of grass flew at him, “your eyes... they’re,” licking his lips, he swallowed hard, stumbling back, “they’re... they’ve gone black.”
“Think of me and your sex will falter!” I hissed, faintly registering my father’s frantic ramblings and prayers, mumblings of the devil, demons, and possession, Trystan’s face blanching as my hands curled at my sides and my face twisted in disgust. “You’ll feel what I felt, every night when you close your eyes, you’ll know my pain, relive it, over and over again. It will be your body that’s violated, your will that’s taken, and no matter how much you scream, it’ll never stop! Sweet dreams will elude you, leaving you only nightmares, my nightmares! Think of me, and sores will form, puss will ooze! You’ll never take anything unwillingly given ever again!!” Snarling, my hands shot out, and blue tendrils snaked from my fingers, wracking his thick frame as he cried out in pain, writhing around on the ground.
As fast as it had begun, it was over, and I felt myself stumbling back, flopping back down on the soggy, marshy ground.
****
“What have you done? What have you done?” Mamma cried, eyeing me like a stranger. I’d never seen the look on her face, a mixture of shock and disbelief, mixed with something else. She’s afraid of me, I realized.
“Oh, god, child. Did you kill him?” Papa knelt down beside Trystan’s prone body, tendrils of smoke rising up from his shirt in the cool night air.
“He’s not dead,” I croaked out finally. I couldn’t muster up an ounce of remorse for what I’d just done, though, not one.
And as I wobbled unsteadily, wiping my brow nervously, I agreed with the voice crooning to me softly, wholeheartedly—he’d deserved it. In some ways, I felt he deserved more, but I didn’t quite have it in me to kill him.
“What black magic has poisoned you?” Mamma whispered, wringing her hands in her long cape. “What piece of you did he take that blackened you?”
Snorting my contempt, I didn’t even try to hide it. “The same part you stole when you and Papa sent me to a troll, nothing to offer but a bag of paste jewelry and a head full of lies.”
Mamma’s eyes widened and she crossed herself, scuttling away from Trystan and Otvla’s incapacitated forms, her lower lip trembling as tears filled her eyes.
“And will you do the same to us, to your family, as you did to him?” she sniffled worriedly.
“No,” reaching out, I flicked my wrist at everyone, a light blue swirl of smoke enveloping them, tendrils slowly snaking out to surround them, “but you’ll never be able to deceive anyone else ever again. May your inner worth and beauty match your outsides.” As the smoke swirled into a mist, settling over all of them, Mamma slapped at herself frantically, afraid it might cause her harm. Papa, speechless, could only gape at me, blinking owlishly as I stood over their huddled, protective crouch, smiling tightly.
“What of my child?” he mumbled. “Does she still live?”
“If you’ll recall,” I nudged Otvla gently with my foot, “that was not of my doing.” Walking back to the sheet, of which had fallen to the ground, I sat down heavily, tugging it over my shoulders protectively as my legs turned to jelly. Head cradled on my knees, I fought back a sob.
“I meant the other one,” Papa finally whispered in a choked voice.
Glancing up, our eyes met and we stared at one another, gazes locked, my expression undecipherable.
The first to look away, I stood up, scooping up my boots , one by one, scattered feet from each other on the ground, cradling them to my chest. Will I never be free of this? Will my life, and my person, never be my own? The urge to flee hit me again, hard, along with the intensified itching and burning of my skin.
“I’m sorry,” though not that sorry at all, “the daughter you knew is gone. The old Daphedaenya is dead.”
Taking off again, I didn’t stop to see his reaction, unwilling to look at his face once more.
Senses driving me, I let them lead. “Take me away, take it all away. Please, make it stop,” my voice whispered, rustling on the wind.
Of The Lake
No idea how long I ran, not stopping until that odd urge, guiding me where I need to go, suddenly ceased. I soon found myself overlooking a rather large pond, a tall sheen of mist surrounding the surface, warm steam wafting up. Adrenaline still rushing through me, the anger coursing my veins upon waking, built back up as I kept at a swift pace.
It was beyond maddening, trying to wad
e through the storm of emotional upheaval, being yanked in fifty different directions all at once, barely hanging on by a thread.
Then there were the ever present runes. The flesh surrounding them ached as the tender skin inflamed, throbbing constantly as they facilitated between pulsing and tingling, as if a million tiny bugs were marching all over me. Breathing heavily, chest tight, I was ready to scream in frustration.
“What is wrong with me?!” My bellow echoed across the surprisingly still water as I tossed my boots in a fit of pique. Of course, there was no answer, just the sound of my voice shooting off across and beyond.
‘The water.’ Like a whisper, coaxing me forward, promising, without words, unmistakable relief.
I’d follow a voice. At this point, I didn’t care. Desperate didn’t even begin to describe.
‘Relief. Embrace the element... Come, Phedaenya.’
Shucking the sheet draped over me like some kind of impromptu cape, I ignored the gooseflesh bumping up all over my exposed skin.
A glint caught my attention, and then another, and another, until I was entranced, hands stilling to watch. Like tiny sparks of sapphire blue and molten silver, skimming across the water’s surface, something strong and undefinable hummed beneath.
Pretty, like a thousand glittering fireflies dancing below the surface, the hum intensified as the sparks brightened and dimmed, winking out to light back up. Beneath my feet the earth vibrated, as if to agree, rippling the water’s edge, small lapping waves splashing up to tickle my toes. It called to me.
“I’m coming,” I mumbled hoarsely, as if it could hear.
Tugging my shift swiftly over my head, I ran headlong, slicing right into the clear blue water, diving down deep into a bottomless vat of crystal clear aqua, uncaring if I never came up for air.
Eventually, I reached what must surely be the bottom, long leafed plants of vibrant colors, some thin, some wide and thick, stemming up, springing forth from the depths.
As the need for oxygen soon became too much, my glowing rune marked skin, not so blindingly bright as it lit electric blue, hummed along to the water’s thrumming tune in the soothing pond’s calming depths. Not wishing to come up again, blessed peace surrounding me, the strain on my lungs started to become too much, just now beginning to burn, and I finally, reluctantly, began swimming up towards the top, speedily kicking my way up.
As I gazed up at the shimmering surface above me, a glowing orb of yellow set high above shone down on me, and I closed my eyes, letting the warm rush of the water across my battered body bathe me, the sound of the water dancing across my ears drowning everything else out like a soothing lullaby, until there was just me, and nothing else. Nothing.
Shaking my wet head, a loud gasp escaped me when I suddenly surfaced, shooting up a good distance before flopping back down, landing with a crashing splash. My eyes opened wide as I spluttered, trying to catch my breath. It felt good, wonderful, even. Flicking my head from side to side like a wet dog as I tread water, I sank back down until the short waves I’d created with my little show lapped at my chin.
As I scrubbed at my face, I barked out a surprised laugh, freezing before rolling my shoulders. What the...? Thrusting my arms out and running my hands along the length of them, smoothing over all the bumped up flesh, a happy, strangled chuckle bubbled up in my throat.
“They don’t hurt anymore...” I whispered, my hands dusting over every inch of me in stunned disbelief, not a sore or aching spot to be found. “Haha!” A shocked smile tipped my lips, astonished. “They don’t hurt me- Ah!”
“Of course they don’t hurt you!” an elderly voice shouted from the shore, grimacing as I screeched, shocked. “What did you expect The Lady’s water would do for ya, eh? Paint’cha pink?”
Head whipping around, I found a huddled old woman, hunched over and covered in worn out, tattered old brown robes, a faded light blue cloak covering her hunched back, holding a length of cloth out to me, as if in offering.
“The what now?” I called, sinking down until the water kissed the tips of my ears. I’m naked, in a pond, and an old woman just caught me. Glancing down briefly, I wondered, if I sink down to the bottom again, until my lungs about burn through my chest, would she be gone when I resurfaced?
“Nope,” the old crone harrumphed, “best not even be thinkin’ it. I’m of a mind. Just wait it out. ‘Sides, I’m powerful stubborn.”
It took me a few moments, blinking at her dumbly, to realize she could read the expression on my face, not my mind.
Something about the old woman was off, though, sending my senses buzzing. She’s something else—not quite human—something... Other?
“Gonna leave an old crone waitin’ fer ya all night, child? Hmm? Or still thinkin ‘bout drownin’ yourself?”
A derisive snort left me and I canted my head, studying her.
Would I ever find sanctuary from those filled with biting sarcasm? The world, and the pond, gave me no answer. I took that as an emphatic no.
“Figures,” I muttered, slowly creeping my way towards her warily.
“Don’t it, though.” Smiling a toothless smile, she cackled at my put out expression. “What be yer name, lil’un?”
“Uhm...” Eyeing her curiously, not certain whether to trust her or not, I held my hand out hesitantly, the rest of my body still under water.
The old woman closed the distance when I didn’t come any closer, shortening the gap between us, and slapped the cloth down into my hand. When she realized I wasn’t going to get out any time soon, either, especially with her standing over me like that, she grunted something unintelligible under her breath and started waddling her way towards the forest just beyond.
Once redressed, hair still damp, feet wrinkled and slightly moist in my father’s smelly old boots, the rapidly cooling temperature chilling my already cooled flesh, she turned around, tossing an arm over her shoulder to beckon me. “Well, come on now, Uhm, we’ve things ta do, and time’s a wastin’.”
After a brief hesitation, one look at the gloomy sky, dark clouds hovering, no other options readily available, I thought to take my chances with the crone.
It was easy enough to catch up with her, her aged, hunched over body only allowing her to go so fast. Biting my lips, huddling down in my sheet as I picked my way through the stray vegetation, bushes filled with thunder berries tugging the branches down heavily, and ice roses in full bloom, bursting with vibrant reds and blues, creamy white mixed in, were growing abundantly along the Lux.
The Lux, named for its faded white poplars and sprawling sycamores, strange plants and supposed strange creatures roaming deep within these ‘enchanted’ woods. The deeper you went, the more things bore the black mark—the taint—of what might occupy this place. The light that shines in the darkness—healthy greens and robust oranges, ruby red leaves filling branches, gave way to blooming blue and black, stark yet eerily beautiful against the milky white of the bark.
Everyone knew to pull back once the evergreens of the Mortrag Hollows, bordering the Lux and Blood Mud swamp, gave way to ghost gums with oddly tinted, bright blue and black speckled, burnt orange leaves.
And here I am, calm as you please, walking right into it. Eyes darting around cautiously, alert, the chilling winds picked up, the closer to the Lux we went. The deeper we traversed into the thickening underbrush, white and blue fighting to be seen, the louder the old woman started humming, an odd shiver raking down my spine.
Skin prickling, I rubbed at it, clutching the sheet tighter around my person when my runes started to wake up, glowing low, the happy hum they brought to my skin, more tingle than sting anymore, causing me to stop entirely to peek down at myself. Pulling my neckline to the side, my eyebrows shot up. Light blue and swirling, no pain or crazed sensations consumed me as my runes glowed, no anger enveloping me.
“Blessed by The Lady, Uhm, ya is. Blessed. Water kissed runes and a blessing.”
Caught, I righted my clothes, snapping my sheet shut
tight, shoulders bunched as I ran to catch up with her, ignoring her thoughtful stare.
Bobbing her head as she talked aloud, mumbling idly about anything and nothing while I half listened and we walked, she soon started singing, her old, worn voice slightly off key but surprisingly pleasant. The haunting melody, sweet but sad, a song of longing and loss, had the hairs on my nape standing on end, and conversely, everything inside of me relaxing.
Slipping her the side eye, I wondered if that was her power, lulling with song. Would that make her a siren, then? Or is it trickery—the craft—a bit of witchery on her part?
I knew that song somehow, though, when she sung louder and I felt like all of my thoughts simply ceased, but... from where?
Dark Within Light
“Here tis, Uhm. Now don’t be doddlin’. Come.”
As we reached her small little cottage, nothing more than a hovel, yet sturdy enough to fight off the elements, I hesitated at the decrepit gate.
Glancing around, the moon hung low, brighter, I felt, than usual, a dusky ring of red rimming the edges. Despite my gut tumbling, nagging at me to stay put, the humming sense in the back of my mind urged me to follow.
No. Nope. I’ve had enough odd encounters to last me a lifetime, don’t need to add a Hansel and Gretel like one into the mix. I’ve at least heard that one before, and while she doesn’t possess a ginger bread and candy house, the innate sense of warmth and calm, of homecoming, she evoked, as if to lull me into a sense of false security, scared the life out of me.
“Uhm?”
Snapped out of my musings, I took a deep breath and glanced up.
“Starting to rain, child,” her voice softened at the look on my face, “come in. I swear, give me word, if yer heart is true, and you’ve the intentions, nothin’ nefarious will come to be under this roof.”
“My... my intentions?” Nefarious? Flabbergasted, my feet found themselves moving forward, picking their way to her door, edging in just before they halted at the threshold.
The Toll Page 23
